


I Will Not Warm Myself

by der_tanzer



Series: Protective Custody [22]
Category: Riptide (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-11-08
Updated: 2010-11-08
Packaged: 2017-10-13 03:12:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 14,700
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/132214
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/der_tanzer/pseuds/der_tanzer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When a suspect accuses Quinlan of a crime, Murray isn't sure who to believe.  But he does know how to get to the bottom of it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Fisher

**Author's Note:**

> The car wreck mentioned here is a reference to _Try Not to Breathe_.  
> 

Murray snuggled under Quinlan's arm, stroking his chest lightly, wondering if his lover was really interested in him tonight. They'd had a late supper, Ted was exhausted from a hard day at work, and he thought maybe they'd just go to sleep like this. It was more common now, after four-fifteen, for Murray to stay overnight instead of walking home in the dark. But somehow it had also become more common for them to skip the sex and go straight to the cuddling and sleeping. Murray wasn't sure if that was okay or not, if it signaled that their relationship had moved into a more comfortable phase, or if it was the beginning of the end, and that was why he kept petting the broad chest, waiting for a response. Eventually, Quinlan turned and kissed him softly.

"Everything okay, babe?"

"I was thinking about asking you that. Ted, do you still—are we still okay? You've been—different, lately."

"You're fine," he said absently.

" _I_ am? What about you?"

Quinlan took a deep breath and reached over to rub Murray's arm.

"I been thinking about something," he said finally.

"What's that? Ted, you're scaring me a little. If I did something…"

"No, baby, it's not you. Not like you're thinking." He went on rubbing Murray's arm, staring at the ceiling, trying to frame his thoughts. Murray kept stroking him, but there was a tremor in his hand that was spreading to the rest of his body and Quinlan brought his free arm up to hug him tighter.

"Ted…"

"Don't you get scared, baby."

In the six months since his kidnapping, Murray had been successful at fighting his fear. He could walk home alone in the cold light of dawn, though he carried his gun at all times, and he rarely dreamed about it anymore. Maybe once a week or so, but even then, he didn't scream or cry. He just went to the bathroom, drank some milk and crawled back into bed. When he was at Ted's, he usually fell asleep right away. At home, he often got his favorite book and read himself back to sleep. Sometimes one of his friends would wake at the same time, disturbed by his stumbling around in the dark, and stay up to talk to him for a bit. He liked that, but he never talked about the dreams or the event that inspired them. That was history.

The only time it wasn't history was when he suspected Ted was thinking about it. He could stand his own view of himself as a victim, but not the idea of Ted seeing him as damaged goods. That still terrified him, and probably always would.

"It just seems like maybe I been making a mistake with you all these years," Quinlan said. He felt Murray's heart leap, knocking against both their ribcages, and kissed him again.

"Ted, please," Murray whispered.

"No, hear me out. I'm saying it wrong, but I can't think of the right words. I never can, you know that. Thing is—oh, hell."

Murray was shivering now and Ted pulled him closer, until Murray was almost on top of him, and held him tight.

"This was supposed to be a good conversation," he sighed. "I was gonna offer you something I thought you'd like, but of course I started off wrong."

"Offer me something? What is there that I don't always have?"

"Remember when you first got out of the hospital and you asked me if I'd ever considered being on the bottom? I told you no, because of what happened when I was a kid."

"I remember. You said it hurt too much."

"Yeah. I was fifteen then, just starting to figure out what it meant to be gay in the forties, trying to figure out how to date and not get killed, and this sailor on shore leave offered me a good time. Turned out he just meant for him. Now I'm fifty-seven and I'm thinking maybe I been missing out on something. And so have you."

"You—you think _I've_ been missing something?"

"Yeah. You like—receiving. So maybe I'd like it, too. If it was done right, by the right person. And I'm pretty sure you'd like being the one inside for a change."

"Maybe," he said doubtfully.

"Maybe? All these years we've been together, have you ever stuck your dick in anything?"

"Besides your mouth? No. You know that."

"You never laid any of those girls you were chasing, or the guys who were chasing you?"

"No, Ted, you know I didn't."

"I know, baby, I'm just making a point. It feels good, you gotta remember that."

"So does your mouth."

"Thanks. But not _as_ good, right?"

"I don't know. It's been a long time. Ted, I'm happy with what we have. I love you and—and I just want what makes you happy. That's what you want for me. You always said that if we didn't—if I couldn't—anymore—that it was okay. And I've never—I always felt that way about you. I don't need more than you can give."

"Sure, I understand. And I'm saying that I want to give you this. As much trust as you've shown me, I want to return it. And I want to know what it's like with someone who, you know, loves me."

"But I—Ted, I don't really know how."

"Know how to what?"

"To—to do that." He raised his head, pushing back a little and meeting Ted's eyes in the dim light. At this distance, he could just make out the shining blue irises.

"What do you mean? Of course you do."

"No, I don't. I've never done it before. I—I'd be clumsy, and I don't want to hurt you. They say the first time always hurts a little. It did for me, even though you were so good, so careful… No, I just can't. I can't be the one who hurts you like that again."

"You wouldn't. I know you, Murray. You couldn't hurt me if you wanted to. It ain't in you."

"Well, no. Not on purpose. But I can't take a chance like that, Ted. If you want to make love, I'm your man. Any way you want it, just say the word. I'm here for you. But not that. You can't make me hurt you."

"If it means that much to you," he said, genuinely disappointed. It showed in his voice and Murray gave him a questioning look.

"Is it that big a deal?"

"No, I guess not. I just offered you something I thought was important and you turned me down flat. No big deal."

"Oh. I—I'm sorry, Ted. Here I am terrified of hurting you and I go and do it anyway. I—I understand what you're saying—I really do. I just—I never even thought about it before so it's kind of—well, I don't know what to think. Just that I can't tonight. It's too sudden, you know?"

"Sure, I understand. But you're going to think about it now, right?"

"Right," Murray said, careful to keep the fear out of his voice. He could handle it with a day or two to prepare, and Ted wouldn't have to know how difficult the whole prospect was for him to even contemplate. With that goal in mind, he rose up and kissed Ted again, slowly and thoroughly, distracting him with the promise of easy sex. No more talking, just kissing and petting, and then Murray was easing between his legs, undulating against him as they both grew hard. Ted dug his hand into Murray's hair and held his head still, his other hand gripping a bony hip, helping to guide him into place and set a pleasing rhythm. There was no penetration, but Murray was on top and it was as sweet as either of them could have wished.

The discussion surely would have continued the next day, and Ted's offer might have been accepted, but before he got off work he managed to ignite a firestorm that insured that neither of them would be able to worry about anything else for a while.

***

Fisher Brenan was something of a local celebrity in King Harbor. His father worked for the L.A. Dodgers and was friends with Tommy Lasorda, so Fisher knew everyone in the organization. He wrote sports columns for the King Harbor paper and never had to buy his own drinks at _Straightaway's_. During winning seasons, he didn't have to buy his meals, either. But Fisher hadn't started out to be a sports reporter. He had taken a year of classes at Caltech in the hopes of being a programmer and that was where he met Murray.

Their friendship had been one of give and take. Murray tutored him three days a week and in return, Fisher took him to a couple of home games. To Murray, this meant they were good friends. When Murray took a friend, there were no reservations. That person had all of his heart and all of his loyalty until such time as he or she should prove undeserving. Since that almost never happened, he had a lot of friends, although most of them didn't value him to the same extent that he did them.

But Quinlan didn't know any of those things when he responded to the call at the _Come and Go Motel_ just after dark on that December evening. In one of the shabby rooms he found Fisher Brenan and a prostitute who couldn't have been eighteen, and that was a stretch, a skinny, sobbing girl with blood on her legs and bruises already rising around her eyes.

The two men had never met, and Fisher had no idea that the cop who was arresting him was involved with the one man who had tried hardest, harder than Brenan himself, to keep him from flunking out of school. If either of them had known who the other was, things _might_ have turned out differently. But probably not.

***

"I just can't imagine him doing that," Murray said, shaking his head in disbelief.

"It just goes to show, you never really know a person. Just about anyone is capable of just about anything, in the right circumstances. Here, have a potato." Quinlan speared one out of the bowl and put it on Murray's plate.

"I guess, but—are you sure, Ted?"

"Sure about what? The girl was a hooker, I'm sure about that. And _somebody_ roughed her up pretty good."

"But it might not have been Fisher."

"No, but she said it was. And even if he didn't beat her, he still committed a crime by picking her up in the first place."

"I know, but it's hardly the _worst_ crime a man can commit," he said, thinking of Myrna. "Surely even you—I mean, you were in two wars—isn't that what soldiers do?"

"I might've bought a few boys some drinks overseas, but I never paid for sex outright, and I never bought a woman. And that's not the point. Brenan ain't a soldier and we ain't at war. And even if we were, that's no reason to beat her so bad the hooker in the next room has to call the cops."

"No, I guess not. But you still don't know for sure that he did it. Maybe he found her like that and was just trying to help. She could have said it was him because she was confused, or she just wanted to blame someone. Or maybe she thought one man was as good as another."

"Really? Is that what you'd have thought? If I'd gone to you on the boat that night and told you I killed two random guys, would that have made you feel better? Or would you have insisted I get the _right_ ones?"

"Ted…" he murmured, his eyes suddenly wide and pleading. Quinlan took his hand across the table.

"I'm sorry. But you know what I mean, and you know I'm right. She's got no motive to lie about that."

Murray nodded silently.

"It doesn't matter what we think, anyway," Ted went on. "I got a complaint and I arrested the suspect. I did my job and that's it. If he goes to trial, I'll tell what I saw and it'll be up to the jury to decide. Until then, it's none of our business."

Murray nodded again, still letting Ted hold his hand but not looking up from his plate.

"Hey, baby, listen. I'm sorry I said that about those guys. I shouldn't have brought it up. In fact, I probably shouldn't have told you about the arrest. I just didn't want you to see it in the paper tomorrow and be all upset. Guess I didn't do it any better, though."

"No, it's not your fault. It's really—you're right, Ted. You never really _do_ know a person."

"Yeah. Look, don't let it ruin your supper, okay? Eat your chicken and we can catch the last half of _Doctor Strangelove_."

Murray, knowing how much Ted disliked political satire and science fiction, appreciated the sacrifice and smiled at long last. "It's okay, Ted, I understand. And we don't have to watch _Doctor Strangelove_. I kind of feel like going to bed, if that's all right with you."

"Whatever you want." He gave Murray's hand one last squeeze and returned to his own meal. "You want to stay the night?"

"Sure. I don't have a car, though. I'll need a ride in the morning." His bravery about walking didn't extend to December.

"That's okay. Ought to think about getting a car, though. Not like you can't afford it."

"I guess. But would you want it parked outside your house all night?"

"So park around the block. I don't really care. My neighbors are all eighty years old. I think they're in bed by five, anyway."

"That's true." Murray rose and carried his plate to the sink, then turned back to pick up Ted's. He rinsed them automatically and loaded the dishwasher. "How long have we been seeing each other, Lieutenant?"

"I don't know. We met in, what, eighty-four? Four years, I guess. Why?"

"Doesn't that seem like a long time to be sneaking around?"

"Yeah, well, what else can we do? Move to San Francisco and get a place on the beach?"

"I don't know. Never mind," he shrugged. "I'm going to the bathroom and then I want to go to bed, if that's okay."

"Sure. But are you really okay, Murray?"

"I'm fine." He bent and kissed Ted's forehead, sliding away before his lover could catch him.

When they met up again in the bedroom, Quinlan had no trouble believing that he was telling the truth. Murray had already crawled into bed and was lying on his back, his thin frame hardly a wrinkle beneath the sheet. He was shivering but would wait for Ted to cover him with blankets, or better, with his own body. He would not warm himself.

Ted pulled the blankets over him before undressing. He hated to see Murray cold like that. When he got into bed, he reached with both arms and drew his lover close, warming chilled skin with his perpetual body heat. Murray burrowed into it with a happy sigh, as if none of the rest of their day mattered. As if they had no past and no future outside this bed.

And for all the thought they gave the outside world, it may as well have not existed. In a matter of minutes they were both sweating, panting and grappling, before Ted gave in and allowed himself to be mounted. Murray groaned as Ted sank into him, taking it slow and steady, without hesitation or reserve. Ted closed his eyes and let himself be enveloped by heat and sweet sensation, let Murray have him the way he liked best.

Murray's frenzied climax had Quinlan coming at once, the curse of the older man, but Murray had no complaints. He'd gotten what he wanted. He eased himself off and lay down, kicking away the blankets as if he'd never been cold. Ted held him until the sweat began to dry on their bodies, then covered him up before the chill set in.

***

Their plan to sleep late the next morning was derailed by a phone call from Captain Haynes. It was seven a.m. and he wanted Ted at the station in fifteen minutes, no excuses. Since not even the captain was supposed to be there on a Saturday, Ted knew it was bad. But he couldn't show up smelling of sex and Murray's cologne, so he ran through the shower and left Murray there to wait or walk home while he went down to see what was happening.

Murray opted to scramble some eggs for Ted and then shower and walk back to the pier alone. The news would be bad, he knew that, and he suspected it might involve Fisher Brenan. As he walked home in the cold December sun, bundled up in one of Ted's Army field jackets, he hoped that Fisher was being set free and Ted not suffering too much for arresting him. Well, he wasn't going to worry about it. The lieutenant would know where to find him and he would explain it all as soon as he could.

Nick was cooking breakfast when he got there, Cody sitting at the table absorbing the heat from the stove. It would warm up soon, it was still California after all, but early in the morning everyone tended to gather in the galley. Murray sat down across the table from him and accepted the coffee cup from Nick's hand.

"You're home early for a Saturday," Cody observed.

"Ted had to go in to work. He, uh—he arrested Fisher Brenan last night. Something about a prostitute. I'm hoping it's all a misunderstanding."

"Fisher, huh?" Nick said. "Who'd have thought the local hero would be paying for nookie?"

"Yeah, he's a friend of yours, isn't he?" Cody asked.

"We haven't seen each other for a while," Murray said slowly. "But I've always thought of him as a friend. It's all really hard to believe."

Cody turned to Nick, meeting his eyes with a silent plea. Nick gave him a small nod, then handed him a plate of pancakes and bacon.

"You want some, too, Boz? There's plenty?"

"No, that's okay. I'm not really hungry. Guys, what am I supposed to do here? Ted keeps saying that you never really know a person and that anyone is capable of anything in the right circumstances, but _Fisher_? Hiring a prostitute and then beating her up? That can't be right."

Nick set a plate in front of him, the pancakes already cut up and soaked in butter and syrup, just the way he liked. Murray picked up a fork without thinking about it and took a bite. He didn't know that he was hungry, but as soon as he swallowed it, his stomach cried for more.

"I'm not sure you need to do anything," Cody said. "It sounds like police business to me."

"But Fisher's my friend and I just don't think he could have done this. But at the same time, I feel like I need to support Ted, too, and I don't know what's right."

"Murray, buddy, that's not a hard question. You haven't seen Fisher in years, and anyway, it's not up to you to decide if he's guilty or not. Quinlan's the only one you have to worry about. _He's_ your lover, _he's_ your friend, and that means _he's_ the one who needs your support. If he's in trouble over this, you need to just take care of him, understand?"

"But what if he's wrong?"

"If he is, it's not on purpose. Cops make mistakes," Nick said. "Quinlan's sure made enough of them, but he always gets it right in the end. And Cody's right, too. It's police business. It doesn't have anything to do with you or your relationship."

"Yeah, I guess." He swallowed the last bite of breakfast and got up so Nick could have his seat. "What do we have going on today?"

"Not a lot. Get a nap if you want," Cody said. "We have a delivery job later, but you don't have to go."

"Oh, no, I will if you need me. Just knock on my door, okay? I'll probably be working."

"Sure," Nick said, giving him a pat on the back as he passed by. They wouldn't really need Murray to deliver an envelope, but if he wanted to go for a drive, he was certainly welcome.

Murray did work for a while, then fell asleep over his keyboard until Nick came and woke him. It was an easy job, just delivering alimony and child support to a woman who had a restraining order against her ex-husband, yet insisted on being paid in cash. Still, Murray thought that being an equal partner meant he should go along.

It was a nice drive and they were there and back in half an hour. Boarding the boat, Nick and Cody were laughing over some shared joke, Cody turning back to take Murray's hand and help him over the rail. They entered the salon together, and Murray went straight down to the galley for some iced tea. He was pouring it when he heard a noise from his cabin and put the pitcher aside to investigate. His pistol was in his hand as he nudged the door open and saw Ted sitting at the desk, flipping through a computer book, a numb expression on his face.

Murray holstered his weapon without it being noticed, and that scared him even more than Ted's being there in the first place.

"Lieutenant?" he asked, fighting down a nameless panic. "What's going on? What are you doing?"

He closed the book with a snap and raised his head, his normally alert eyes strangely dull.

"I didn't know where else to go," he muttered. "I'm suspended from work and the press is staking out my house. They'll probably find their way here eventually, but I—I didn't know where else to go. I just—I didn't know what to do."

"About what? Ted, what's wrong? Why are you _suspended_? And the _press_? What—why are _they_ interested in you?" His voice rose with every sentence, and by the time he ran out of questions, Nick and Cody were at the door, alerted for the first time that there was someone else on board.

"That goddamned Fisher Brenan. He's accusing me of police brutality. Says I roughed him up during the arrest. He's saying he has a pulled tendon in his knee and whiplash or some such shit in his neck. And that girl that he beat up, the hooker, she disappeared from the hospital last night. They had her in the ER and she snuck out while no one was looking, so I also don't have any kind of case against him. He's saying I arrested, and assaulted, him over some old grudge. That little fuck's going to ruin my career and I don't know how to fight him."

"Oh. Oh, Ted," Murray sighed, not knowing what else to say.

"Wait, what grudge?" Nick asked. "Start at the beginning."

"Five years ago, before you guys came to town, before he was the big-shot sports reporter with all the connections, I popped him on a DWI hit and run. He was guilty as hell but his old man hired him a slick lawyer and he got off with some community service. I was pissed, I admit it. He hit a parked car with a woman and a little girl in it and the kid got a broken arm. He should have gone to jail. But he didn't and I let it go. Now he's saying the girl he was with was a bar pickup and I made up the battered prostitute story as an excuse to arrest him and pay him back."

"Did you ever do anything about it back then? Try to get your revenge when it was fresh?" Nick asked logically. "I mean, when we came to town, you weren't the most easygoing guy."

"No, I never did. Well, maybe a couple parking tickets, but they weren't fake. Little bastard always parks in the handicapped spots."

"So where does that leave you?" Cody asked, entering the cramped cabin and sitting down on Murray's cot. "Have you gotten a lawyer yet?"

"The department wants me using theirs. I could lose my job over this. I could go to _prison_. Do you know what happens to cops in prison?"

The guys mentally added _old_ and _gay_ to that equation and all three shuddered.

"You won't lose your job," Nick said firmly. "If you didn't do it, you didn't do it. It'll all come out in the end."

"Don't blow smoke up my ass, Ryder. If it's my word against his and if I don't have any evidence, I'm fucked."

"Not so fast. We can straighten this out," he persisted. "It's way too early to give up." Nick went over to the cot and sat beside Cody, both of them oddly determined. No one noticed that Murray hadn't said anything for a while. That he was, in fact, still standing by the door. As soon as everyone else was deep in conversation, he went back out to the galley for his iced tea.

Cody came out and found him there ten minutes later, sitting at the table, drinking his tea.

"Hey, buddy. What're you doing here?"

"Just—just thinking. Cody, I don't know how to understand this. I really just don't know what to do."

"You don't? Murray, this is easy. He's your man, right? So you get in there and tell him everything's going to be okay."

"But I don't know if it is."

"That doesn't matter. Is he your man or isn't he?"

"Well, yes," Murray said, but he didn't sound so sure.

"Then that's what you do. Get your ass in there and comfort him already. He's scared and Nick isn't what he needs right now."

"Yeah, okay," he sighed, rising and putting his glass in the sink.

"Murray, wait. What's really going on here? You believe him, don't you?"

Before he could answer, Nick was in the doorway calling his name. Murray turned his back on Cody's question and went to do the best he could.

***

Ted went home after dark, after the reporters got bored and abandoned his lawn, but Murray, who had been supportive and loving all afternoon, didn't go along. He said he had work to do and they'd get together tomorrow. To his credit, he meant it. It wasn't his fault that he didn't get the chance.

"There's something not right here," Cody murmured as he helped Nick with supper.

"What? You mean with the cheese? It smells all right to me."

"No, with Boz. Why's he being so reluctant about supporting Ted? It's like he thinks he's guilty or something."

"That can't be it," Nick said, taking over grating the cheese. "He knows this is a set-up. He's a smart guy."

"Sure, he's smart. But he's different now, too. I don't know what's going on in his head, and neither do you."

"Shit. You think we ought to talk to him?"

"Somebody needs to," Cody said, "and I don't think Ted can do it this time."

"Yeah. Hey, I've got this under control. Why don't you run out and get some of that triple chocolate marshmallow ice cream he likes? Maybe he'll listen better over dessert."

"Yeah, I could eat some ice cream, too." He kissed Nick lightly and went to get his jacket. Nick added the taco spice to the hamburger and moved on to chopping vegetables.

After a while, Murray came in and sat down at the table to watch. He didn't say anything until the food was ready, and even then it was just to offer to help when Nick started to carry it up to the salon. Nick said he was always up for a hand and together they laid out the taco ingredients on the salon table. Murray seemed to be timing something in his head, and after a few minutes, he decided to speak.

"Do you really think Ted's innocent?" he asked quietly.

"Don't you?"

"I guess I don't really know what to think. You know what he was like before. He used to fight people all the time. He beat up you and Cody lots of times, broke your noses, even. I guess it's just not that hard for me to believe he might hurt someone, especially someone who's screwed him over in the past."

"Yeah, okay. I admit, I thought of that, too. But ask yourself this, Murray: has he ever _lied_ to you before? He might hit somebody, but wouldn't he own up to it and justify himself? Isn't that how he does things?"

"I guess. But the motive—where's the girl, Nick? It still comes down to a question of whether Fisher really did what Ted says he did, and I still have a problem with that. I _know_ Fisher."

"No, you don't," Nick said firmly. "He's a guy who was in your class a few years ago and took you to a couple baseball games. He's not your best friend. He's not the guy who saved your life—how many times now?"

"I don't know," he said miserably. "Two? Maybe three?"

"That's right. Quinlan was there when you got shot, he protected you until the trial, brought you back after that car wreck, and I don't think I even need to bring up four-fifteen. How can you not trust him after all that?"

"You're right," he whispered, sinking into the nearest chair. "I'm being unreasonable, aren't I? After the way he's taken care of me, I won't even trust him when he says he didn't assault a suspect. Jeez, of course he didn't. And you both knew it before I did. I'm a rotten excuse for a man, let alone a boyfriend."

"You just a smart man," Nick said. "The kind who has to look at everything from every side. That's why you're right so often, like you're right now. Ted's not lying to you and I think you've known it all along."

"Yes, I think I did. Thanks, Nick. I'm going to fix this, first thing after supper. I'll call him and make it right."

But though he tried calling until after eleven, Quinlan never answered the phone. Murray thought about going over there, but in the end he didn't. Ted was known to unplug his phone when he was on vacation or hiding from someone. And as long as he was suspended from work and being hounded by the press, not to mention doubted by Murray, there was probably no one he wanted to hear from.

By the time he gave up trying to call, it was too late to go over there. Ted would be sleeping for sure.

***

On Sunday morning, Quinlan's trouble was the top headline in the _King Harbor News_. Murray was reading it in the galley while Nick made breakfast, but the ringing phone interrupted him halfway through the article. Nick had bacon grease on his hands, and Cody was in the shower, so Murray put down the paper and went to his cabin for the cordless phone.

"Hey, Ted, good morning. I was going to come over there in a few minutes and see how you're doing. I'm really sorry about being so—distant yesterday. I should have gone home with you last night—it was just selfish of me to let you spend the night alone—and I'm really sorry."

"Yeah, well" Quinlan said gruffly, "it's for the best. I got arrested last night. Brenan's old man pulled some strings to get a warrant—look , it doesn't matter. They got me in solitary so that's okay, but—Murray…"

"They _arrested_ you? At home on a Saturday night? What—no, wait, what can I do? Can I post bail?"

"Not until tomorrow. But you could find me a lawyer. This departmental guy doesn't believe me. He's gonna hang me out to dry, just to save trouble for everyone. Murray, you're my only friend on the outside. I know you got your doubts—don't think for a second that you fooled me about that—but you're all I got. Just get me a lawyer and, if you can, bail me out in the morning. I'll pay you back."

"Yes, of course. Don't worry about the money, that's no big deal. Just tell me, um, do you have a lawyer in mind, or should I call mine? And what else can I do? Will they let me see you? Can I bring you anything?"

"Calm down, Bozinsky. Get the lawyer first. I don't know any, so take your pick. And if you really want to come down here," he added, lowering his voice, "I could use a couple things from home."

"Sure, yes, of course I want to. Let me get a pen." He looked around helplessly for one before remembering that there were fifteen in his pocket. He pulled a notebook out of his jacket and wrote down everything Quinlan said. At the end he hesitated to say goodbye, still eaten up with guilt over his doubts, and then Ted was telling him that he had to go, his time was up.

"All right," he said quickly. "But—are they listening? Can they hear me?"

"No, just me."

"Okay. I love you, Lieutenant. I'm sorry about everything and I really—I really love you."

"I know," Quinlan choked out, then paused to clear his throat. "I know, kid. Me too."

Murray ate his breakfast hurriedly and talked Cody out of washing the dishes so they could go. It had never even occurred to him to go alone. But once there, the officer in charge said that only one person could go down to solitary. Murray left his friends in the lobby and followed the officer downstairs, the grocery bag containing Quinlan's clean clothes and paperback Westerns clutched tight in one sweaty hand.

There were three cells in the basement, each walled with brick and barred only in the front so the inmates couldn't see each other. Two were empty, the doors standing open, and Quinlan was locked in the third, sitting on his bunk with his head hanging, looking like every other criminal who had ever hunched there in misery. The officer who escorted Murray had been Quinlan's subordinate on Friday and was extremely nervous about being his jailer today. Murray wasn't the most socially sophisticated man in King Harbor, but even he picked up on that and figured he could use it.

"Hey, Lieutenant. Are they treating you okay?"

"Good as can be expected. You bring me _Haunted Mesa_?"

"I did. Officer Mitchell, can you open the door? You know he won't escape."

"I—I don't know if we can do that. There's rules, you know, and I don't really—I don't have the authority."

"Oh, for chrissakes," Ted muttered, hauling himself up off the bunk. "Let the kid in. He won't hurt anything."

"Well, I guess—let me search the bag, at least."

Murray handed it over, having expected this and not packed anything suspicious. Then he submitted to being searched himself, turning out his pockets and standing against the cell door, hands gripping the iron bars, while the officer patted him down. He hated being touched so intimately by a stranger, but keeping his eyes fixed on Ted's made it bearable. The officer didn't see how closely Quinlan watched him, eyes narrowing as he felt over Murray's ass and around his crotch. When he stepped back to get his keys, Quinlan offered Murray a smile and it was returned.

"I'll give you guys ten minutes," Mitchell said, unlocking the heavy door. "Lieutenant, you want me to wait outside?"

"Yeah, why don't you do that?" he snarled. Mitchell went out and no one moved until the hall door closed behind him. Then, all in a rush, Murray dropped the paper bag and ran into the cell.

Ted looked surprised for a split second and that expression would have stopped Murray in his tracks, had he not been moving too fast to see it. But because he was, he threw his arms around Ted's neck and held on tight.

"Hey, Murray, it's okay," he said quietly, hugging the thin body close. "It's okay."

"No, it isn't. Ted, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry about all of this."

"It's not your fault. Come here and sit down." He let go and pushed Murray toward the bed, picked up the paper bag, and followed him.

"Ted, what're we going to do to?"

"Whatever the lawyer says, I guess. I don't have enough friends in this town to beat Brenan. I'm gonna lose my job, but I might stay out of prison if you get me a good enough lawyer. But forget that for a second. Are you saying you ain't mad at me anymore?"

"I—I was never _mad_. I was—confused. I'm always confused, it seems like."

"Yeah, that's one of the things I like about you. One self-assured asshole is enough in any relationship, right?"

"Right," he agreed with a small chuckle. "But I believe you and I really want you to know that. I believe you caught Fisher with the girl, and you didn't hit him. I'm just really sorry that I ever had any doubts."

"It's okay. You've trusted me with a lot of personal shit over the years, but it was always about you, wasn't it? You never had to figure out what I'm like when you're not around."

"That's right. That's it exactly. It's always been about trusting you to be good to me, but I never really saw you treat anyone else half as well."

"I never have. But that doesn't mean I beat up guys for no reason. Anymore," he added, just to make Murray laugh.

"I wish I could take you home. I wish we could just curl up in bed and forget all this."

"Bail me out tomorrow and you can have two outta three. We can go home and go to bed, but I can't forget about it. I gotta find a way out or I'll be leaving town, one way or another."

"Leaving town?" Murray cried, gripping Ted's arm with all the strength in his bony fingers.

"Either I get convicted and go to prison, or they acquit me and I move to L.A. on my own. I won't stay here with that kind of smear on my reputation."

"But—but what about me? You can't leave—you promised."

"L.A.'s not that far. And in a new neighborhood, a place where I ain't a cop, you can come spend the weekend. Leaving town doesn't mean I'd be leaving you."

Murray nodded weakly and leaned against his shoulder, pressing his face into Quinlan's neck. Ted hugged him with one arm and held his hand with the other, feeling his body shake.

"It's okay," he said again. "Baby, I love you. You know that. I love you and it'll be okay."

Murray nodded again and kissed his throat, biting lightly so it wouldn't leave a mark. Ted let him for a moment, then turned his head and kissed back until they were right on the edge of something passionate. He could have taken the kid right there in the cell if he hadn't known Mitchell would be coming back. Regretfully, he pushed Murray away and wiped his mouth, then kissed him on top of the head. He was just in time, as the hall door opened a few seconds later and Officer Mitchell returned.

"We'll be there for the arraignment," Murray said, rising from the bunk. He was blushing, wondering what Mitchell knew, and what he suspected. Quinlan said goodbye, Murray gave him a little wave, and the cell door clanged behind him as he left the room.

***

"So that's it?" Nick asked, when Murray told them about the conversation. They were in the car, Cody driving and Murray leaning over the back of the front seat. "We go to the arraignment, get him a lawyer, and—what? Wait and see what happens? Hope for the best?"

"That seems to be what he wants," Murray said. "But I have to say, I don't feel good about it. He's resting everything on the grand jury, I guess, because he said if he goes to trial and get acquitted, he'll still leave town. We need to give him better help than that, right? What can we do?"

"If he doesn't want any help…" Cody said, and then didn't know how to finish.

"Wait," Nick said, twisting in his seat to better see Murray. "The issue here is that Fisher's saying Quinlan trumped up the charges because of that earlier bust, and roughed him up for good measure, right? And the hooker's gone, so Quinlan doesn't have a witness. Does that about sum it up?"

"You know it does," Murray sighed.

"Then it's simple, isn't it? We have to find the girl."

"Yeah, that's simple," Cody said, half kidding. But Murray's face lit up and Nick knew he'd hit it.

"You're right! Nick, that's exactly what we have to do. The _Come and Go_ is on Broadway—he probably picked her up right around there. Ted said that she said her name was Darla, so someone must know who she is. All those girls kind of know each other, right?"

"They should, at least by street names. What do you say we go over there tonight, Cody?"

"What do I say about going over to Broadway and trying to find a hooker? Gee, Nick, do you miss Quinlan so much that you want to go hang out with him in jail?"

"We're private detectives," Murray said, patting him on the shoulder. "We're allowed to hunt for people. But if you really don't want to do it, Nick and I could go alone."

Cody looked over at Nick, the car wavering slightly on the road, and met a pair of blue eyes that reflected his own incredulousness. The idea of Nick going up and down Broadway questioning pimps and junkies with only Murray to watch his back was pretty terrifying. In fact, though he loved Murray too much to say ever it aloud, Cody thought that Nick would be safer going alone.

"No, I'll go," he said quickly. "Did Ted ever give you a description? Anything we can go on besides the name?"

"Um, yeah. She's a redhead, so that must narrow it down a little. And he said she was kind of tall, for a woman. Ted thought maybe he liked beating down someone bigger than him, which doesn't sound like Fisher to me, but I don't know. He _is_ kind of small."

"He told you all this stuff when you weren't believing him?" Nick asked and regretted it when Murray dropped his eyes.

"He was trying to explain," he said guiltily. "I made him defend himself and he gave me a lot of details. But we can use it, right? We can find the girl and get him off."

"We can probably find the girl," Nick confirmed, "and that will help. There's no guarantee—a hooker isn't the best witness to take to court—but if she saw the arrest and she can vouch for Quinlan's behavior, that's the best we can do."

"Oh, thank you," Murray cried, flinging his arms around Nick's throat and stopping just short of kissing him. He started to hug Cody, too, but he was driving and Nick grabbed Murray's arm before he could. Cody threw his lover a glance that said Nick was promising a lot, and Nick just shrugged in response. The late night occupants of Broadway wouldn't be very likely to talk to private detectives, and even if they found this Darla girl, the odds weren't all good that she'd want to go to the DA on behalf of a cop. But it was still their best chance to save Ted and they had to take it.


	2. Darla

Murray tapped into the police computer to see if there were any records on a prostitute named Darla, and when that came up empty he began making a list of all the most likely haunts, based on where the greatest number of arrests were made. Early in the afternoon, Nick convinced him to take a nap in preparation for the long night ahead and he went reluctantly to bed. His mind was racing, but he had the new issue of _The New Yorker_ from the library, and the dense, hyper-intellectual prose had his eyelids drooping in no time. If he'd wanted to stay awake, he would have been reading _Science_.

Cody woke him just before dark to have some pizza and put on warm clothes, and then they were on their way. Cruising slowly up and down Broadway, all three of them felt like perverts on patrol, and after the fourth circuit, Cody parked and they got out to walk. The first thing they did was take their detective licenses out of their wallets, tuck them into easily accessible shirt pockets, and put their wallets in the front pockets of their pants where they'd be much harder to steal.

Nick and Cody shuffled Murray between them and cautiously approached a group of brightly dressed women, two black and one Latina, who were leaning against a brick wall. The women, who on closer inspection revealed themselves to be about seventeen, tensed visibly, then put their game faces on.

"Hey, boys," called the oldest girl, who might have been seventeen and a half. "You all looking for a good time?"

"Actually, we're looking for a girl named Darla," Murray said excitedly. The girls' faces closed off instantly, and Nick pushed Murray back, stepping quickly in front of him. Cody took the lead, pulling out his license and letting the bold girl look it over in the glare of the streetlight.

"Darla's not in any trouble, we just need to talk to her," he said kindly. "See? We're not cops."

"If you all ain't cops or customers, what you want with us?"

"We don't want to bother you at all. But Darla got beaten up a few nights ago, and the guy who did it is going to get away with it if she doesn't go to court."

"That ain't nothing new," the Latina girl snorted and lit a cigarette. "These cops, they don't do nothing for us."

"Well, one of them tried," Murray said, standing on tiptoe to catch her eyes over Nick's shoulder. "He tried, and now he's going to jail."

"Murray, not now," Cody hissed, and the bold black girl stepped closer.

"Hang on, handsome. Let the little guy talk. Come here, Slinky, and tell Star all about it."

Nick and Cody exchanged a glance and reluctantly moved apart, letting Murray step up between them again.

"Lieutenant Quinlan arrested the man who beat her up, but he doesn't have a case without her. And then that man turned around and said the lieutenant assaulted him while arresting him without cause. Now he could go to prison if Darla doesn't come forward and tell the DA what really happened."

"Fucking cops, man," said the other black girl, speaking for the first time. "Seems like The Man could take care of his own problems without help from the likes of us."

"No, wait," the Latina girl said, stepping into the light. "I know Quinlan. He busted me a bunch of times, but he ain't a bad man. He never hit me or offered to let me off on a bush bond."

"Bush bond?" Murray repeated blankly. "What's that? Is it like shrub—" He was cut off sharply when Cody elbowed him in the ribs.

"You so cute, honey," Star laughed. "But Pica's right, he ain't bad. For a pig. He don't make us put out like the others do, that's for sure. Either he real nice, or he light in the loafers, you know?"

Murray managed to hold her gaze, but he couldn't stop the deep red blush from climbing up his neck.

"Oh, honey, you _are_ cute," she said, and this time she didn't laugh. "Well, like I said, he ain't bad for a pig. He sure don't deserve to go to prison over a guy who'd beat up a little girl like Darla. You boys wait a minute, hear?"

Murray nodded and the women moved back into the shadows for a conference. The guys waited nervously, feeling exposed under the streetlight and hoping the cops weren't patrolling yet. Then Star returned alone.

"Okay, I ain't know where she is, but Destiny, she know. You wanna go down to the light on Market and take a right. Go about two—three blocks and ask for Darnel at the Caddy that's up on blocks. He know where they girls at. You tell him Star sent you and he take care of you."

"Thank you so much, Star," Murray said sincerely. He held out his hand, and anger flashed in her eyes as if she expected a blow. He winced in sympathetic sorrow, and Star softened. She clasped his hand with a smile that made her look her age, like the girl she might have been, smiling in a yearbook photo her senior year or posing in a frilly satin prom dress with a shy, pimply boy at her side.

"No problem, honey. You take care of _you_ , too. And good luck saving yo' man. He seem like a nice one, for—"

"A pig," Murray finished with her. "He is. Thank you." When she released his hand, he dug in his pocket and gave her a twenty dollar bill. Even Murray knew that for these girls, time was money in a much more relevant way than it was for most other people.

Nick and Cody thanked her, then grabbed Murray's elbows and propelled him down the street toward Market. The Caddy on blocks was visible from the corner, two girls leaning against it and a man hanging out the driver's side window, saying something with elaborate hand gestures. They approached him with somewhat more caution, asking if he was Darnell and then forking over a five to get the answer. Another twenty got them directions to the apartment where Darla was recovering, under the care of another girl. Darnell expressed some displeasure over the idea of helping a cop, but he had a small appreciation for Quinlan, too. Ted was the only cop to ever arrest him without roughing him up, and was known to have never raped any of his girls. But he still made it clear that if Darla said no, that was the end of it and they had better leave her alone. Cody agreed, speaking for them in his calm, diplomatic way, and they went on to find the apartment.

It was just down the street, not far at all, but the farther they got from Broadway, which barely felt like King Harbor itself, the more alien became the landscape. All of the cars here seemed to be on blocks, and some had been on fire. The only ones that ran were those cruising up and down the street, picking up women and young men almost indiscriminately. Murray thought about the times he'd gone to the park looking for a man and wondered what he'd have done if he'd known about this. Probably gotten himself killed.

He lagged slightly behind his friends, but Cody had a tight hold on his wrist to make sure they didn't lose him. Then Nick pointed out the building Darnell had described. There were young men clustered in the entryway here, all of them white, pale and emaciated, wearing too much makeup around their eyes, and girl's jeans to accentuate their asses. One of them winked and grinned at Cody and he shrunk back in horror, his face filled with pity.

"You're looking for me, mister," the boy said, displaying a mouthful of rotting teeth. "Trust me, I'm the one you want."

"We don't want anything from you," Nick said sharply, pushing him away. But he'd overestimated the boy's capacity to withstand shoving and was surprised to see him fly backward and hit the wall. The others backed off, not even going to check on their friend, who was looking up with dazed eyes and rubbing his head. Murray tore himself free of Cody's grip and crouched beside him, one hand hovering just over the boy's shoulder but not quite able to touch.

"Are you alright? I'm sorry. _He's_ sorry. He didn't mean anything by that. Nick just doesn't know his own strength sometimes."

"Yeah, whatever," the boy said vaguely, waving a hand at him in an unmistakable shooing gesture. "If you're not into us, get on out of here, man."

"We can't. We're looking for Darla. Do you know her? Her friend Darnell said she was here."

"Man, Darnell ain't nobody's friend. He's the meanest pimp on this street. But if he says she's here, she probably is. There's a bunch of girls using the rooms on the second floor."

"Oh," Murray said, suddenly uncertain. "A bunch? How will we find her?"

"That's your problem," the boy said. He looked past Murray to glare at Nick, still rubbing theatrically at the back of his head.

"Yes, of course it is. Of course," Murray said quickly. "But if you _did_ know how to help us, we'd make it worth your while."

The boy's flat eyes brightened at that and he stopped rubbing his dirty scalp.

"How much?"

"What can you do for us?" Nick countered, interrupting before Murray could give away the farm.

"I can find her room and get her to let you in. I know Darla. She's my friend."

"She's your friend, but you just sold her out," Nick said. "You don't even know what we want with her."

"Madge is looking after her, man. You start any trouble, she'll take care of you real quick. I ain't worried about Darla, I just need something to eat."

"Something to shoot is more like it," Nick muttered.

"Take us to her door, get Madge to let us in, and I'll give you twenty dollars," Murray told him. This time the boy's entire face lit up and the others, who had been listening from a safe distance, began to look menacing. Cody stepped forward and pulled Murray to his feet, making sure as he did that his jacket fell open to show his gun. Nick grabbed the boy by the collar of his shirt and did the same. The pack of feral boys fell back, disappointed but still licking their lips over the meal that might have been.

The boy, who a minute ago hadn't had any idea who Darla was, led them straight to her door and knocked a simple code. It was opened a moment later by a big, tough looking black woman whose smile turned into a glare when she saw the three men standing behind him.

"Oh _hell_ no, boy. You ain't bringing these white boys to my door. Darla ain't in the mood to be having this shit, and I _know_ you didn't come for me."

"They're PIs, Madge. They just want to talk to Darla."

"Slim, you is pushing me, boy. Darla don't want to talk to no PIs."

"Yeah, well, I just said I'd bring 'em. Nerd boy here promised me money."

"Then nerd boy better pay the fuck up and get gone."

Slim turned to Murray, who gave him a twenty as promised. The boy disappeared down the darkened hallway, leaving them to face Madge alone.

"You got some money for me, nerd boy?"

"If it'll get us in," Cody said, reaching into his pocket.

"No way. Not you two. Darla ain't in no shape to be taking on all three of you. But I'll let nerd boy talk to her. We can handle him."

"No," Nick said quickly. "No way."

"Wait, I'll do it. You guys just wait here. What could go wrong? I don't have any more money, they can't rob me."

"Murray, that's not all they can do," Nick insisted.

"I don't care. Darla's right on the other side of that door and Ted's counting on us. Just wait here. I'm going to go get this girl, no matter what it takes. Cody, pay her. Please."

"All right," he sighed, handing over the bill. "But we'll be right out here, Madge, and if he makes any noise, we're breaking down this door."

"Whatever you gotta do, white boy," she shrugged and let Murray in. Cody tried to see past her into the dimly lit room, but he couldn't make out anything before she slammed the door.

Murray stood still for a moment to let his eyes adjust, hearing the breathing of at least two other people over the scurrying rustle of bugs. Then a lamp came on and he was blind again.

"What you want now, nerd boy?" Madge asked sharply. A louder rustle from across the room divided his attention and he looked that way, finally seeing the girl he'd come to find.

"I just need to talk to Darla. Is—is that you?" he asked, taking a tentative step towards the bed where she lay.

"I ain't gonna fuck you, man. I've had a shit week," she mumbled through split and swollen lips. Her whole face was bloated and bruised, one eye half open and the other closed entirely. When she reached to pull a dirty blanket over herself, he saw bruises on her arms so dark they looked like missing pieces in the poor light.

"No, no," he said quickly. "No, I'm a friend of Lieutenant Quinlan's. He arrested Fisher Brenan for beating you up a few days ago."

"I ain't testifying," she said immediately. "Girls like me don't go to court."

"You don't have to if you don't want to, but—but Quinlan treated you okay, didn't he?"

"He arrested Brenan and not me," she conceded. "That's never happened before."

"Usually a girl get the shit kicked out of her, she the one goes to jail," Madge explained, in case he didn't get the idea.

"You won't go to jail, Darla," he said gently, moving to the bed at last and kneeling beside her. "The thing is, after you disappeared, Fisher filed police brutality charges against Lieutenant Quinlan. He says that he picked you up at a bar and you—you had sex, like a date, and Quinlan showed up and beat him up and arrested him for no reason. You don't have to go to court, but if you went to the DA, or, at worst, testified for the grand jury, about what really happened when Quinlan got there, that would be enough. I—he—he could go to prison, Darla, and all he was trying to do was help you."

"No," she said, shaking her head helplessly. "No, I can't. Darnell'd kill me if I talked to the cops."

"We—we could protect you from him. Darla, you don't have to live like this. You're young, you have so much potential—where's your family?"

"I can't go home, man. I wish I could, but it's too late."

"But there must be some way we can help. If you help Lieutenant Quinlan, we'll do anything we can for you. Please, Darla. He's a good man." His tone was so earnest, his eyes so wide and desperate, she felt her resolve begin to crack.

"Okay, he's a good man. I've only seen him a couple times, but he was fair to me. Just, what is he to you? You're a PI, right? You working for him?"

"He's my friend. I just don't want to see him go to prison for something he didn't do."

"He's your boyfriend, ain't he?" she whispered.

"Please, Darla."

"What would I have to do? Not that I'm going to do anything, but if I was, what do you need?"

"Just come with us to the arraignment tomorrow morning. Maybe you can talk to the DA and get the charges dropped. Then you don't have to testify against Fisher Brenan if you don't want to."

"Tomorrow? Honey, Darnell ain't gonna let me out of here for a week, and when he does, it won't be in the morning."

"Then come with us tonight. My friends and I can protect you."

" _Your_ friends?" she repeated, looking him up and down with her one half-open eye.

"Yes. My friends are a lot bigger and tougher than me, and we all have guns. I promise you'll be safe. Please. You just said that Ted was always fair to you. Do you want him to go away? Do you want a new cop down here instead?"

"Now he right about that," Madge broke in. "Some of the pigs that come down here—boy, all they want is pussy. They ain't no law in it, and they ain't pay, either."

"Hush, Madge. What's your name?"

"Murray Bozinsky. Darla, is there anything else I can say? Do you want money? Because I can get it. I'll—I'll contact your family, rent you an apartment, buy you a plane ticket—anything you want, Darla. Just do this for Ted, please."

"Now it's Ted," she said quietly, trying to smile with her shapeless mouth. "I had a boyfriend once, Murray. We were so in love…" She took a deep breath and looked up at her guardian. "I think I better go with him. Will you be okay if I go? Darnell's gonna be pissed."

"Baby, I ain't scared o' that man. He my baby brother, after all. He might take my money, but I ain't take no shit off him."

"He's your brother?" Murray asked, stunned. "You brother is your—uh—business manager?"

"Pimp, baby. He my pimp. But he sure enough a better one than our daddy. I can't be taking you out that door, though. That's a little too far. You all need your own plan for that."

"I think I have one. Don't worry. I'm just going to get my friends, okay?"

"Okay," Darla agreed, still withholding judgment.

Murray got up and went to the door. When he opened it, Nick and Cody nearly fell into the room, so closely had they been trying to listen. They stumbled in and closed the door behind them.

"Darla, these are my friends, Cody Allen and Nick Ryder. Guys, this is Darla—I'm sorry, I don't know your last name."

"Porter."

"Thank you. Darla Porter. Darla says she'll go with us and talk to the DA in the morning, but we have to take her home tonight. Otherwise we won't be able to get to her tomorrow."

"Is that a problem?" Cody asked, directing the question to the room in general.

"Darnell won't want her to go. But we can get her out tonight if we're quick enough. Cody, if you go get the car and bring it around to the front of the building, you can honk and Nick can carry her down. If we take them all by surprise and keep moving, we should make it, right?"

"Yeah, probably," Cody said. "Will Darnell come looking for you, Darla? Will he try to track you down?"

"I doubt it. Anyway, like I told Murray, I ain't testifying against that Brenan guy. All I'm agreeing to is trying to help the lieutenant."

"Fair enough," Nick said. "But if we're going, we'd better get. We'll be lucky if the car's still there as it is."

"I'm on my way," Cody said and headed out the door. There was a sudden awkward silence in the filthy little room, and then Darla was dragging herself out of bed to dress. She was wearing a t-shirt and nothing else, and Murray turned away as she bent and pulled on a pair of jeans. Nick saw that her body was covered in bruises, all about the same age as the ones on her face, and went to help her. She sat on the bed and let him tie her sneakers, then got up again, moving stiffly and with great effort, and began to pack some things in an old backpack.

"What're you doing, child?"

"I can't go to court like this, Madge. I need my good shirt, at least."

But Nick saw her put in a small roll of bills and a photo that had been lying flat against the bottom of a dresser drawer and guessed that she wasn't planning on coming back. She was zipping the pack when they heard the horn downstairs. Murray took it and slung it on his back, Nick picked up the skinny girl, and Madge opened the door for them. The women said goodbye as Nick carried Darla out, and then they were on their way. Through the dark hall, past curious girls and their disinterested customers, down two flights of stairs and through the entryway, where a whole new crowd of skinny, overly made-up boys were waiting. Someone called out to ask where Darla was going and then they were in the street where the Jimmy idled in the empty traffic lane, the gearshift still in first. Murray climbed awkwardly into the back while Nick placed Darla carefully in the front seat, then jumped in beside him. His feet had barely cleared the pavement before the car was moving, and just like that, they were away.

Darnell was furious when he found out, but no one could tell him where they'd taken his girl, and he decided not to pursue them. He'd seen a thousand like her in his career, and he'd see a thousand more.

***

Darla wasn't feeling exactly hopeful when she boarded the _Riptide_ in the dead of night. Despite their promises and Murray's honest face, she was still steeled for the worst. A gangbang wouldn't have surprised her, and burial at sea seemed possible. But they offered her a shower and soft food, then gave her one of Murray's pajama tops and tucked her into his bed. Cody took her clothes to the all night laundromat while Nick stood guard in the salon, and Murray settled down to sleep in the passageway outside his cabin door, carefully taking up enough space that she wouldn't be able to step over him if she came out.

So Darla slept her first night in two years without feeling Darnell or his spies nearby, though she didn't know for sure that these men were any better. It was enough to believe they couldn't possibly be worse.

The smell of frying bacon woke her in the morning and she crept from the cabin to see if they were still guarding the door. The passage was empty but she heard laughter nearby, the low and throaty tones of the two big men and a high-pitched giggle that made her smile, though smiling hurt her mouth.

"Hey, Darla. Good morning," Murray said, jumping up from the table when she came in. "Did you sleep all right? Do you want some breakfast? There are pancakes here, and Nick would be happy to scramble you some eggs."

"Good morning," she said shyly, hanging back in the doorway.

"How are you feeling?" Cody asked, trying to distract her from Murray's overwhelming earnestness.

"I'm okay. I'd love some pancake and eggs, but I need to go to the bathroom first. Is—is that okay?"

"Sure," Murray said, blushing faintly. "You know where it is. And your clean clothes are on the table up in the salon."

"Thanks. I'll be right back."

They moved out of the way so she could pass through the galley and Murray sat back down.

"She doesn't look too good, does she?" he whispered.

"No, buddy. Not too good," Cody agreed. "But that'll help when we see the DA."

"What are we going to do with her afterwards? I—we can't just take her back to Market Street."

"We can't stop her if that's what she wants," Nick said. "But we'll certainly talk about it, try to come up with alternatives."

They ate their breakfast, waiting for her to come back, and then Cody gave her his place at the table. She ate her syrup-soaked pancakes and soft scrambled eggs very carefully, listening to the men talk about her possible future without volunteering anything herself. She was too hungry and those futures with their potential meals too far away.

***

Everything that happened after they arrived at the courthouse was a blur. She met with the DA alone, after which Quinlan was released and the charges dropped for lack of evidence, Fisher being unable to come up with any medical corroboration of his injuries. He was charged with filing a false complaint, and with assault and soliciting a prostitute, which got a lot worse when Darla admitted that she was only fifteen. Almost before she knew what was happening, she was saying goodbye to her new friends and heading off to the hospital in the custody of children's services, on her way to one of those futures which had seemed so distant just this morning.

"And I thought you were just bailing me out," Quinlan said as he and Murray got into the back of the Jimmy. "How in hell did you find that girl?"

"We went to hell," Cody said simply.

"What's that?" he asked, turning to Murray.

"It wasn't that hard. We went down to Broadway where the motel is and asked around. Apparently, you can find out anything if you have a little money."

"You went down there with cash and 'asked around'? How'd you survive that? And what'd it cost?"

"Less than your bail would've," Nick said. "Just forget it. The girl's okay for now, Fisher's in jail, and you're not. Let's leave it at that, huh?"

"Whatever you say," Quinlan shrugged. He could get it out of Murray later if he really wanted to.

Cody dropped them off at Quinlan's house, telling Murray with a laugh not to worry about coming home any time soon. He said he wouldn't.

"You must have had a big adventure," Quinlan said, letting him into the house and locking the door behind them.

"I suppose. It was awfully sad out there, Ted. All those helpless, hopeless people…"

"Let's not talk about that right now. I'm gonna take a shower, eat something with some flavor, and then I want to go to bed."

"I bet you didn't get much sleep last night," Murray said hesitantly.

"No, or the night before. Solitary or not, I ain't the kind of man who can sleep in jail." He looked away for a split second, then turned back and put his hand on Murray's hip. "Thanks for getting me out so fast. I don't know how much you believed before you found that girl, but it was enough for you to go looking for her and—and I really appreciate it."

"I know, Ted. It's okay, really. Go take your shower and I'll make you some lunch."

"Yeah? Thanks, kid." He kissed Murray, swift but sweet, and went to get his shower.

They didn't talk much while Ted ate, still wearing his robe, drops of water shining in his thinning hair. Murray asked him how he was treated in jail, but Quinlan didn't want to get into it. He seemed strangely preoccupied, to the point that Murray was thinking he should maybe go home, but that didn't seem right. Murray knew he hadn't been as supportive as he should have been, and taking off now would just be more of the same.

"Ted, is there anything else I can do? I—I feel like I haven't really, you know, been there for you."

"Fuck, kid. You got me out of jail. You found that girl and got the charges dropped, and now you're sitting there saying you haven't been there for me? Shit. And you put extra cheese in the sandwich, too. Baby, I'd laugh if I wasn't afraid I'd end up crying."

"You never cry," Murray said stupidly, the only thing he could think of.

"Not in front of you."

Murray giggled, then saw that he wasn't joking. "Ted, no. Tell me you never cried over me."

"It's been too long since I lied to you. I don't think I remember how."

"Well, I've cried over you, too. Mostly when I realized I was being stupid and risking our relationship. I always felt so bad when I knew I was hurting you, but I never imagined you'd cry."

"No, not over that stuff," he said dismissively. "I always knew I'd get you back eventually. What I couldn't stand was when you were hurt and I thought you might be leaving me for good. And maybe a little when I was in jail, not knowing if you thought I was guilty or not. That was probably the worst I've ever felt, outside of…" He trailed off and dropped his eyes. Murray knew he was thinking _four-fifteen_ , and neither needed to say it. "If I'd gone up on that, you'd have believed I did it, wouldn't you?"

"No," he said staunchly. "No, I knew you didn't. I really _knew_ that. I talked to Cody and Nick about it and they reminded me of the thing I forgot."

"What's that? What do those two know about me that you don't?"

"I said I knew it, I just forgot. You might have been mean in the past, and short-tempered, and quick to jump to conclusions—"

"Yeah, enough with the wedding toast, Bozinsky. What's your point?"

"My point is that you were always upfront about everything. Whatever you did, you did openly. So I figured if you did beat him up, you wouldn't lie to me about it—you'd brag to everyone and then beat him up more."

"That's quite a reputation I've made for myself. But you're right, and your friends are pretty smart. Lucky for me."

"Yes, me too. Ted, I love you so much. I don't know what I'd have done if this turned out differently. I was so—so scared for you."

"So was I. But it's okay now. The DA will put this thing to rest in a few days and I'll be back on the job next Monday. And maybe that little girl will get something out of it. Maybe it'll get her off the street before it's too late."

"I sure hope so. We had her on the boat last night so we could watch her and she really is a sweet kid."

"Yeah? Had a chance to get to know her, did you?"

"She slept in my bed," he grinned, with a suggestive wiggle of his eyebrows.

"And where did you sleep?"

"On the floor outside," he said, still grinning but not at all suggestively. "Seriously, though, she really is sweet. And all of those people helped us because it was you. They all had a story about how you treated them fairly and didn't hurt them when they were under your power."

"That ain't special, Murray. That's the job."

"Apparently not the way a lot of cops do it."

"Shit." Quinlan got up and put his dishes in the sink. He stood there for a long moment, hands on the counter, and Murray waited to see what he would do. When he finally turned around, his expression was so drained and exhausted, Murray was a little bit frightened.

"You should go to bed," he said shakily, hoping he wasn't overstepping.

"Yeah, I guess. Come with me?" Ted asked, and the uncertainty in his voice told Murray more clearly than anything else how much this whole experience had taken out of him.

"Of course. Anything you want," he said, rising and putting his arm around Ted's waist. To his surprise, the bigger man leaned into him, letting Murray support him just a little as they went into the bedroom. Once there, Ted stripped naked with no sense of seduction and fell into bed, closing his eyes for so long that Murray thought he might be asleep. But before he could decide what to do, Ted muttered a sleepy, _Ain't you coming?_ Murray undressed and slid between the cool sheets, holding his arms out to his lover. Ted moved into his embrace, made himself comfortable on the bony chest, and this time went to sleep.

***

It was dusk when Murray woke alone in the big bed. He hadn't meant to fall asleep, but he must have at some point. Now Ted was gone, but his side of the bed was still warm and Murray's left arm was numb, so he guessed it was Ted getting up that woke him. He turned over with a yawn and rubbed his arm until it stopped tingling, wondering all the while if he should get up and look for Ted, or wait for him to come back. In the end it was his erection that decided him. Better to give it a few minutes and see if Ted came back on his own.

Before long, he did.

"You're awake," he observed with a smile, climbing into bed. Murray sidled closer and laid his head on the broad shoulder that he'd missed so much.

"I was about to go hunt you down. I don't like waking up without you."

"Yeah, me either." His hands were traveling up and down Murray's back, stroking his slender neck, working into his unkempt hair. "Baby, you remember what we talked about the other day, before all this started?"

"We talked about a lot of things," he hedged.

"I asked you to make love to me and you refused," Quinlan said flatly.

"I didn't refuse to make love," Murray said, softly defensive. "I just didn't want to hurt you."

"Would you say the same thing if I asked you again? Today?"

"I'd ask why you were so quick to trust me after the way I distrusted you."

"That's just how you are," he shrugged. "Overcautious. Like you're being now. Murray, I've always trusted you and that's what counts here. If you let me fuck you even with your doubts and insecurity, why wouldn't I let you fuck me when I never questioned you at all?"

"That almost makes sense," Murray said, laughing softly.

"Makes perfect sense. Look, this ain't complicated. I just want to give you something that I know feels good, and I want to know what's so great about getting fucked that you cry and beg for it."

"I'd like to show you that," Murray said, blushing warmly against his shoulder. "But I really don't know if I could make it that good. In fact, I almost certainly couldn't the first time. It's much more likely that you'll end up sore and frustrated and just wishing it was over."

"If that happens, you can come and then suck me off. Or let me fuck you. Whatever happens, it wouldn't be the end of the world."

"No, I suppose not. Not when you put it that way." He pushed himself up on his elbow and kissed Ted softly, thinking that if he did this badly enough, he wouldn't have to worry. Ted would decide for himself that he'd made a mistake and not bring it up again.

Soft turned to passionate as the kiss went on, and Murray discovered it was more arousing than he'd expected. He was almost never the active partner, even when he ended up on top. Mostly Quinlan liked to hold him down and play with him, deriving his own pleasure from Murray's. This was the first time he'd offered to be wholly passive, and Murray moved slowly, figuring out step by step how that was supposed to work.

Ted helped him out a little, guiding Murray's hand over his body, showing him where and how he most wanted to be touched. He let Murray tickle his ribs, pinch his nipples, stroke his rounded but still muscular stomach while nuzzling the warm fur of his chest. The only thing Murray didn't touch was Ted's slowly swelling cock, remembering that it would tighten his involuntary muscles and make the next part more difficult.

When Ted released his hand, Murray cupped his cheek and kissed him again, asking shakily if he was ready.

"I am if you are. It's okay, baby. You won't hurt me."

"Tell me if I do," he said, staring into Ted's eyes, nose to nose, where he could hold the steely blue gaze even without his glasses. Quinlan smiled without speaking and arched up to kiss him. Murray stopped arguing and reached for the lube.

It was his first time breeching another man and he worried about his fingernails as he pressed slowly past the clenching muscle. He paused at the first knuckle, listening to his lover breathe unsteadily and wishing he'd put his glasses back on so he could see Ted's expression.

"Are you waiting for something?" Quinlan asked with mock impatience. Murray laughed self-consciously and went for the second knuckle. Now he could stroke and caress a little, and Ted's breathing, though fast, was much more even.

Gradually, patiently, he got up to two fingers and located the magic spot that made Ted stiffen and whimper just a little. It wasn't the first time anyone had touched his prostate, but it was the first time it had ever been done with love, and that made all the difference. He couldn't help moving, shifting his hips to deepen and prolong the pleasure, telling Murray without words that he wanted more.

"You're not ready, are you?" Murray asked, still massaging gently in the hopes that he would want more of that first.

"I think I am. That's already more'n I gave you the first time."

"But you knew what you were doing," Murray reminded him, not adding that it had also caused more pain than he was willing to inflict on the one he loved. Still, he wiped his hand and reached under the bed for the wedge pillow he used when they were experimenting. It went without saying that Ted wouldn't be turning over, even for him. It took a few seconds to arrange his body properly, and then Murray was slicking his cock, trying to find the right position for himself.

Ted reached out and touched him lightly, trailing his fingers up the length of Murray's shaft, encouraging him even as he appeared to be measuring the length and girth.

"Come on, baby," he whispered. "I've waited long enough."

Murray took a deep breath and leaned over him, bracing himself with his left hand and gripping his cock with his right. It was hard to make the first move, harder than it had been even for the first touch of his hand, but Ted's faint smile gave him courage. Cautiously, Murray set the head of his shaft against the tight passage and pressed, slow and easy, unconsciously matching his breathing to Ted's. As the softness and heat enveloped him, he began to understand what Ted had wanted to give him and prayed he could return some of what he had so often so received.

Murray rocked gently, opening him with short, shallow thrusts, watching his face closely to see if it was all right. Ted's eyes were squeezed shut, a single muscle in his cheek twitching, but there was still a bit of a smile on his lips. Murray kissed him until he opened his eyes, then paused so Ted could tell him what to do. But there were no verbal instructions this time. Instead, Ted grabbed his hips and pulled him closer, deeper, arching into it until he'd taken it all. Murray froze, flooded with incredible pleasure, afraid to move lest he come right away.

"Oh, Ted," he whispered, smiling his widest, geekiest smile. "Thank you."

"Too early to thank me," Ted whispered back, shifting carefully beneath him.

"No, it isn't. Does it hurt? I'll stop if it does."

"Not on your life. Come on, baby, it's okay. I'm ready now."

Murray pulled back just a little, groaning at the sweet agony of Ted's grip, kissing his throat when he hissed in pain. It took three or four thrusts for the pain to subside, and then Ted was moving with him, angling his pelvis so Murray nudged his gland with each careful stroke. If their roles were reversed, Murray would have been crying for harder, deeper, faster, more, but Ted never bucked or begged, and Murray didn't push. Instead he slipped his hand between them and gave Ted's half-hard cock a gentle tug. Ted groaned eagerly and thrust up into his hand, forgetting the tingling burn in his ass, even as it turned to pleasure.

"Oh fuck," he whimpered, frightened by the strength of his feelings, his need for more sensation winning the war against his fear of pain. "Fuck, Murray, baby…"

"Is that good or bad?" Murray panted, pausing until he knew for sure. But Ted was squeezing him harder, goading him on, his strong fingers digging bruisingly into the scant meat of Murray's hips.

"Don't stop, baby, please. Don't hurt me, but please, don't stop."

Murray dropped his head to Quinlan's shoulder and resumed his easy rocking thrusts. He skated over Ted's gland with each stroke, jerking his cock fast and hard at the same time, the combination he liked best himself. Ted lasted a couple more minutes before coming with a frantic, helpless cry that he would never admit to later. It was that cry as much as the rippling spasm inside him that finished Murray. He drove as deep and hard as he could just once and let himself go, fully in the moment in case it never happened again.

For a long moment they lay still, their faces pressed together, panting hard as the sweat ran down their bodies. Murray stroked Ted's cheek with his thumb, wanting to speak and not knowing how. Ted had been able to make him feel insecure and vaguely embarrassed ever since that first handjob, but he'd never felt as vulnerable and exposed as he did at this moment, buried inside his lover as their pleasure waned.

"You all right?" Ted whispered, petting his back gently.

"I—yes. Was—was it okay? Did I hurt you?"

"No, baby. It was good. Better than I expected."

"You weren't expecting much, were you?" Murray asked, withdrawing carefully.

"I expected to feel closer to you," he said quietly.

Murray tried to look up quickly enough to catch his expression, but Ted was rubbing his hand over his face.

"And—and did you?" He stretched out by Ted's side, wanting to cuddle against him and resisting the urge, frightened by his melancholy tone.

"Closer than ever," was the surprising answer. He put his arm around Murray and hugged him hard, pressing the thin face into his broad shoulder with one hand. "Baby, thank you. I thought I was giving you something, but I think I got more than I gave."

"I doubt that," Murray said, giggling with relief. "It was great, Ted. Just—just really—great. Probably a lot better for me than you."

"Maybe, but it doesn't matter. No point in trying to compare, right? All that matters is I trusted you and you didn't let me down. And I came with you inside me. I never thought that was possible. Thank you, Murray."

"Don't thank me, Lieutenant. It was my pleasure."

"Yeah, well—I ought to take a shower," he said, suddenly uncomfortable.

"Okay. Can I join you, or do you want to be alone for a bit?"

"Whatever you want, kid."

So Murray got up and followed him, as he always had and always would.


End file.
